MARY. Lay the table, waiter.
WID. (_Aside._) D--n the table. (_Lays the plates and dishes and
places the chairs. Mary White gallants Mdlle. Cheri Bounce, apart.
Widgetts, C., polishing a plate, furiously._) Here's a pleasant
situation, waiter at my own supper, and afraid to open my mouth. The
rascal's making love to her, and she likes it! Hang 'em, I wish I
could strangle them.
(_Mary White and Mdlle. Cheri Bounce laughing._)
CHERI. Oh, you droll wretch, you're ten times funnier than that stupid
Widgetts.
MARY. Hang Widgetts.
WID. (_Coming between them._) I beg your pardon.
MARY. What d'ye want? Is the table laid?
WID. (_Aside._) D--n the table. (_Returns to table, and bawls out._)
Supper's ready!
MARY. Ah! (_To Cheri Bounce._) Come, my dear.
(_Widgetts seats himself at table._)
MARY. What!
WID. (_Jumps up._) Beg pardon--I vacate.
(_Mary White, R., and Cheri Bounce, L., seat themselves at table._)
MARY. Now, my dear ma'amselle, here are fowl, and lobster, and
kidneys.
WID. (_Aside._) I wish they were sticking in his gizzard.
MARY. Now then, waiter, be alive, and take your tin.
(_Claps one of the dish covers on Widgetts' head, who snatches it off,
and flings it away in a rage._)